The next morning, the Immortal Vessel hovered above the void.
Wu Zhaohua, dressed in white, leaned against the jade railing.
She appeared to be gazing into the distance, but her peripheral vision caught Qin Qingyue stepping out from the elegant chamber.
Qin Qingyue stretched lazily, her spiritual power harmoniously full.
A radiant glow of satisfaction lingered on her delicate features, and even the tips of her hair seemed imbued with spiritual essence.
Wu Zhaohua’s lips curved into a faint, ambiguous smile as her voice rang out softly but clearly: “What’s wrong? Not going out to practice swordsmanship today, Jiang Huai?”
Qin Qingyue’s expression tightened immediately.
She snorted lightly and retorted bluntly, “He said he was tired last night and wanted to rest!”
Wu Zhaohua fell silent, clutching the book in her hands tightly.
Not far away, Zhu Siyao also found it strange.
By this time, Jiang Huai should have appeared for morning practice.
She stood quietly at the ship’s edge, her gaze frequently glancing toward the sealed cabin door.
Standing statuesque like an ice sculpture, White Dew’s icy blue eyes suddenly fixed on Zhu Siyao.
After a careful observation, her cold brows furrowed ever so slightly.
She transmitted her voice directly into Qin Qingyue’s mind: “Palace Master Qin, pay attention to the girl beside you.”
Qin Qingyue’s heart stirred, though her face remained unchanged.
She replied through Soul Transmission, “Zhu Siyao? What’s wrong with her?”
“She suffers from severe Yin-Yang imbalance. Her Yin energy is overwhelming, while her Yang energy is nearly exhausted. Her heart meridian is barely sustained by a thin strand of extraordinarily pure Yang energy derived from Jiang Huai, which delays her decline.”
White Dew’s meticulous analysis continued with a calm but alarming tone, “More troublesome is that she cultivates a fiercely aggressive Fire Attribute Cultivation Method. Her Yin predominance makes her inherently weak, yet she uses raging fire to fan the flames—her internal conflict burns away her original source continuously.”
“If left untreated, her life will be at risk. This is no sustainable situation.”
The implication was clear: without intervention, she wouldn’t survive long.
Qin Qingyue’s heart sank sharply as she suddenly looked at the seemingly unharmed girl beside her.
Zhu Siyao noticed the sudden intensity of her gaze and looked back in confusion.
Inwardly, Qin Qingyue hurriedly questioned: “What if Jiang Huai regularly replenishes her with Yang energy? Could that sustain her?”
This was the method Su Yingman had suggested before: as long as Jiang Huai provided a large supply regularly, it might work.
White Dew’s response carried a faint trace of disdain: “Which quack came up with that? This is a deficiency of Original Source. No simple external Yang energy supplement can cure it.”
“As her realm advances, the Yin fire within will only burn hotter, increasing her demand for Yang energy and intensifying rejection.”
“At that point, even if she swallowed a whole barrel of… cough, even if she absorbed all of Jiang Huai’s Yang energy, it might not suppress it anymore.”
“This is merely drinking poison to quench thirst, merely delaying the inevitable.”
“What then?!” Qin Qingyue’s anxiety grew genuine.
White Dew was silent for a moment.
Qin Qingyue knew this meant conditions were coming.
For Zhuxin’s sake, this ‘elder lady’ would have to bleed heavily this time.
Gritting her teeth, she secretly transmitted a list of treasures from the Nine Heavens Palace treasury:
“Three drops of Myriad-Year Stone Marrow Milk, one piece of Soul-Nourishing Wood, plus ten Empty Nether Crystals!”
These were exceedingly rare and precious items, hardly encountered even in millennia.
On White Dew’s frozen face, the corners of her lips lifted into a barely perceptible smile, evidently satisfied with the offer.
With a flick of her slender finger, a glowing list condensed and fell into Qin Qingyue’s awareness.
Every item on the list was rare, some requiring specific opportunities or secret realms to acquire.
“Gather these materials: one Arctic Snow Soul Lotus, three Molten Hearts, ten drops of Millennium Earth Vein Spirit Milk, one recipe for the Yin-Yang Purple Gold Pill, and three auxiliary prescriptions…”
All were extremely scarce treasures, some needing precise conditions to obtain.
“Then,” White Dew’s voice remained calm in Qin Qingyue’s mind, “immerse her in a medicinal bath prepared with these celestial ingredients. Use the dual harmonizing effects of the medicine and the primal Yin-Yang energies to gradually dispel the Yin Corrosive Fire inside her and replenish her congenital deficiency.”
The treatment resembled what had been done for Tang Zhaoxue, but with different celestial materials.
Qin Qingyue quickly scanned the list, her expression instantly turning complex and she couldn’t help but transmit in astonishment: “We still have to soak her?!”
White Dew glanced at her oddly, as if puzzled by the question.
“The medicinal bath allows the herbal power to penetrate evenly and guides the Yin-Yang energies to fuse in the gentlest, most thorough way.”
Could it be that Qin Qingyue was reluctant to have Jiang Huai overworked?
“It’s not a matter of the materials…” Qin Qingyue’s tone was complicated as she glanced strangely at the confused Zhu Siyao beside her.
How was she supposed to explain this to Zhuxin?
“Those two at the sect gate, are they still there?”
“Since Senior Sister hasn’t returned all day, they’re probably keeping watch all day.”
Within the Wenxuan Sect, Qi Yuyong and Bai Lei looked distantly toward the small vermilion hut by the mountain gate, whispering.
Before the hut, a beauty clad in crimson armor sat cross-legged, her spiritual fire flowing slowly around her.
The intense heat caused the surroundings to shimmer faintly. This was Zhuxin.
At this moment, the small door of the hut creaked open, and a delicate foot clad in pink embroidered shoes stepped out, followed by a pair of long, fair legs.
Su Yingman, the Hehuan Sect Leader, leaned against the doorframe with a sultry air, lazily yawning, her eyes flashing irresistible charm.
“Main Wife and the others have been gone so long. Why haven’t we heard anything?” she asked Zhuxin casually.
This seemingly ordinary hut was actually Zhuxin’s precious Space Treasure, a realm of its own.
Though not as vast or luxurious as Qin Qingyue’s Eastern Sea Dragon Palace, it was arranged cozily with three rooms and a hall—more than enough for daily living and cultivation.
Su Yingman envied it greatly.
“Sigh, Space Treasures really are wonderful,” she stretched, curves unmistakably displayed, her tone dripping with envy.
“A big sect like this, even their Main Wife gets such a fine treasure.”
“How come I can’t even get one room to call my own?”
Zhuxin didn’t even lift her eyelids, remaining focused on her cultivation, responding quietly, “No idea, maybe the journey’s too far.”
“Just sitting here all day with nothing to do is so boring.” Su Yingman stepped closer, gently brushing her skirt, gracefully sitting beside Zhuxin.
“Besides, who in this world dares to come ask for trouble at Wenxuan Sect? Must be tired of life, right?”
“No idea.” Zhuxin kept it brief.
As their idle conversation continued, a low rumble suddenly came from the horizon, growing louder like distant thunder rolling closer.
Both looked up simultaneously and saw a sleek, majestic Immortal Vessel breaking through the clouds, surrounded by faint spiritual light, descending slowly.
Zhuxin instantly reined in her fiery aura, sprang to her feet, eyes fixed on the vessel.
A small head poked out, looking down—Zhu Siyao.
Her gaze locked immediately with Zhuxin’s below, full of anxiety and hope.
“Mother!” Zhu Siyao cried out joyfully.
“Siyao!” Zhuxin’s figure flickered, already beneath the vessel with arms open.
Zhu Siyao dashed forward like a fledgling swallow returning home, throwing herself into her mother’s warm, familiar embrace.
Mother and daughter resembled each other closely—one radiating youthful vibrancy, the other embodying mature grace and concern.
“You scared me to death!” Zhuxin hugged her tightly, voice trembling slightly as she repeatedly checked if her daughter was alright.
“I’m fine, Mother, everything’s okay,” Zhu Siyao mumbled into her mother’s chest, voice muffled but full of reassurance.
Nearby, Su Yingman stood and smiled, glancing at a young male figure, “Husband.”
“Come up,” Qin Qingyue said softly.
With that, Su Yingman brought Zhuxin’s Space Treasure up to the Immortal Vessel, stepping beside Jiang Huai.
“Sect Master, I’ll take my leave here,” Qin Qingyue smiled wryly at Wu Zhaohua, her dragon tail flicking gently.
“Thanks for your help this time. If the Nine Heavens Palace needs anything in the future, we will certainly assist.”
“We have a few matters to attend to, so we won’t stay long.” She was eager to see Wu Zhaohua gone.
Don’t say she was fickle with people—she would send generous gifts to Wenxuan Sect eventually, just not now.
Wu Zhaohua’s gaze swept over Qin Qingyue’s smile that didn’t reach her eyes, amused, as she said lightly, “Is Palace Master Qin sending me off just like that? Is your husband worth so little?”
Her enunciation on “husband” was heavy with resentment and deep hatred.
“Hahaha, not at all. I was just thinking of sending a gift to your sect on a suitable day,” Qin Qingyue laughed on the surface but cursed silently.
Old fox, I knew you wouldn’t let this go so easily.
If so, why put on that heartless act in the first place?
And why bring yourself back now?
“No need for gifts. Wenxuan Sect cannot accept your sect master’s generosity.”
“This favor is for Jiang Huai. I ask that Jiang Huai personally come to express his thanks.”
“Besides, isn’t there still some part of Wenxuan Swordsmanship Jiang Huai doesn’t understand?” Wu Zhaohua shifted her gaze to Jiang Huai.
Qin Qingyue opened her mouth to speak but stopped.
Wu Zhaohua leapt up, giving Qin Qingyue no chance to refuse, boldly declaring, “I ask Palace Master Qin to keep her promise and have Jiang Huai come to Wenxuan Sect to thank me personally.”
“Otherwise, I, Wu Zhaohua, will come myself…”
With that, Wu Zhaohua left behind only a white-clad shadow and vanished without a trace.
“You…”